


He's Here Again

by thechapwiththearms



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Gay Character, Depression, Hallucinations, Internalized Homophobia, Kate Bush, M/M, Military, Period-Typical Homophobia, Short One Shot, Songfic, This is very short, don't think there's really a tag for "imaginary boyfriend", mentions of pre-canon, sorry fanny love u actually, tiny bit of fluff but not that happy tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 02:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19190092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechapwiththearms/pseuds/thechapwiththearms
Summary: In which The Captain has a quasi-imaginary boyfriend.Based very loosely on The Man With the Child in His Eyes by Kate Bush.Not beta'd, any mistakes are my own.





	He's Here Again

**Author's Note:**

> This is shorter than I intended but, hey, it's my first Ghosts fic! Lyrics are from 'The Man With the Child in His Eyes.'

> I hear him  
>  Before I go to sleep  
>  And focus on the day that's been

As the moon cemented its position firmly in the sky for the night, The Captain was sat alone, perched tentatively on the edge of his mattress. Frowning, he took his swagger stick out from under his arm and fiddled with it between his fingers before setting aside with a huff. With a darting glance at the clock hanging on the wall nearest his bed (matted in a layer of dust as a result of years of neglect - it was a wonder that it still worked, he thought in passing), he noticed he had been sitting in that same spot for much longer than he thought. Sighing once again - god, he felt like Thomas - he placed his head in his hands and attempted to repress whatever tears threatened to surface. 

_You’re a captain, for God’s sake,_ he scolded himself internally, _pull yourself together!_

As if on queue, a familiar, comforting voice sounded from behind him.

\---

Today, it was the usual. Some offhand (yet still noticeably disgusted) comment from Fanny about her encounter with her husband whilst he was “‘pon the groundsman” had sent The Captain silently spiralling, reflecting upon his own actions, when he had been alive. As Lady Button carried on like a spurned thing, ranting so openly about the immorality and filth of it (she daren’t speak the word), The Captain’s stomach turned. With each word, it felt more and more as if he was going to vomit from pure embarrassment and self-hatred. He knew, deep down, that she meant no harm, but he so wished that he could inform her of the turmoil her ceaseless raving caused him.

But he couldn’t. Certainly not. So, instead, he resorted to his usual method of dealing with _those_ emotions: he didn’t. Until, that is, he was alone in his bedroom - his own private quarters - late at night, and was doubly and triply sure that every other inhabitant of the house was sound asleep. That was the only time he dared to allow himself to properly experience any degree of emotion. Then, he would sit - sometimes for minutes, other times for hours - wordlessly pondering his inner machinations: his past, his present, what others thought of him, what he thought of himself, his achievements, his failures, and...

Now, if anyone were ever to find him in this state - reflective, brooding, melancholy, - he would want nothing more than to ball himself up so tightly in unadulterated humiliation that he disappeared. He certainly was not the sort to let others partake in his suffering, much less those he comes into contact with on a daily basis; in The Captain’s mind, emotions were weakness, weakness was shameful, and shame was incurable. It was unbearable to him, wondering what it might be like to actually share thoughts and feelings with his fellow ghosts like Kitty, and Pat, and of course Thomas, did so openly and regularly. He had been brought up in such a way as to repress the darned things and never let on that he experienced them at all, and his military career had only enforced these values.

There was one person, however, that The Captain felt he could share his feelings - however mortifying, however sordid he thought them to be - with. Though, if being encountered in his quiet, reflective state would cause such sheer indignity, being discovered partaking in what he could only possibly describe as the strange ritual he performs nightly could only result in him dying all over again.

> I realize he's there  
>  When I turn the light off  
>  And turn over

After setting aside his swagger stick, an air of incurable woe surrounding him, The Captain lay back in bed, gears in his mind still grinding away at one another as Fanny’s words bounced around his mind. Unable to shake them, he gave a laboured sigh and turned over onto his right side. What he saw, as always, caused an irrepressible smile to creep onto The Captain’s face, masked only by the dusk and his moustache.

“Hello, you.” George crooned.

“Hello.” The Captain echoed.

\---

George was a younger soldier, scarcely a lance corporal, but he had been so very good to The Captain in the years they had served together. Too good, The Captain often thought, but that was besides the point. To the untrained and unprying eye, they were simply inseparable best friends - they often drank together, and could often be found talking embarrassingly profoundly to one another in either soldier’s quarters late most nights. Wherever The Captain went, George went, and they carried on like this until his untimely and utterly unexpected death.

George’s eye, it would seem, was one of the many that were untrained. Never once did he consider that The Captain may have been interested in anything more than a friendly relationship. In fact, George had a wife back home (Dot, was it?) - a child too - whom he seemed eager to reunite with despite his undeniably close rapport with his wartime counterpart. It pained The Captain deeply to keep his feelings under wraps, but he was simply unwilling to risk his own - and more importantly George’s - safety for the sake of sharing useless emotions that he felt were most definitely unrequited.

Nonetheless, they stuck to one another like the strongest of glues, never passing up the opportunity to lt the other open up emotionally, as they were both silently aware of their inability to do so elsewhere (the other men were kind to a point, but often taunted and scolded anyone who dared to do as much as shed a tear once in a while).

\---

Here, though, in Button House, in bed, in The Captain’s mind, George was more to him than he had been in either of their lifetimes. The Captain felt that they had bonded even past his death; he saw him, he spoke to him. Spoke, in fact, in so much excruciating detail that he was definitely aware that he had never been so open with him when he was alive. He had selfishly wished, in the beginning, that George would pass on and become a ghost too, but scolded himself for being so self-centred, and settled for a substitute instead.

> He's very understanding and he's so  
>  Aware of all my situations  
>  When I stay up late  
>  He's always with me

“Late one tonight, is it?” laughed George softly, gesturing vaguely towards the decrepit clock.

“I suppose it is” The Captain responded.

“Her again?”

“Y-yes” replied The Captain, trying to regain composure after nearly suffering a breakdown on the edge of the mattress not five minutes prior.

George pulled The Captain into his arms and the older man swore he could genuinely feel his touch. Half of him felt as if he was going insane in doing this at all, but the feeling was so overwhelmingly comforting that he reciprocated, wrapping his arms around the lithe figure beside him. Sighing, he lamented:

“I’m awful, aren’t I? Disgusting.”

“Stop that now, Cap. You’re nothing of the sort. Regardless of what some hag has to say about it.”

“Don’t call he-”

“Well, she is. You’re lovely, Cap, wonderful. Nothing disgusting on you” playfully, he added a soft “love.”

That was evidently the final straw for The Captain’s emotional reigns, as he broke out in a fit of violent tears so sudden they would have startled George were he truly beside him.  
“George, oh damn it, I had never thought I’d tell you this, but I love you t-”

Once he had wiped the tears from his eyes, though, George had vanished.


End file.
